A Little Something Sweet
by Verdreht
Summary: "Tutu always says nothing makes a bad day better than a little something sweet, and Isaac looks like he could use a better day. " Part 1 of my Mahealahey series. Essentially, Danny's finding his way to Isaac's heart through his stomach, and Isaac's being cute a little (lot) emotionally damaged and maybe not quite as oblivious as Danny thinks. Isaac/Danny slash fluffiness!
1. Chapter 1

The end of April means a lot of things for an eighth grade Danny Mahealani. More, as it turns out, than he actually knows at the time. It doesn't just mean the end of the school year; it means the end of life as a middle schooler, period. It means so long to those stupid required fine arts class, restricted lunches, and the pint-sized half-lockers that Danny's pretty sure are actually smaller than his backpack.

Of course, downside's that it also means finals. Like, _crap tons_ of finals, and the statewide assessment tests which don't actually count for something but they still make them take anyway because…they're…important…somehow.

Danny'll take their word for it.

He's not actually really worried about any of it. He may not be as smart as some of his friends – even if Lydia's started doing this thing these last couple years where she pretends to be dumber than she is, which makes Danny just want to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until she realizes by some sort of weird osmosis that it's totally okay to be beautiful _and_ smart – but he can still breeze through most of his classes. The only one that gives him a little bit of trouble is Algebra II.

Which is what he's currently doing. He and Jackson have called another one of their last minute study sessions, and they're just now wrapping up a four-hour afterschool marathon of polynomials and second degree equations, after which Danny's pretty sure his calculator's considering suicide. His eyes are right there behind it, because seriously, he's all for academia, but even _he_ can only stare at curvy lines and x's and y's before it all starts to blur together.

"I should probably get going," he says, breaking the comfortable silence that's been hanging between them the last half hour or so. Jackson looks up from his book, and then over to the clock. Danny follows his lead. "Holy crap." The _9:03_ barely has time to register before he's already scrambling up off his friends bed, throwing his books into his backpack and stepping into his shoes. "My mom's gonna kill me."

Jackson just watches him with a bored expression. Because the great and venerable Whittemore doesn't understand the consequences of something so plebian as breaking curfew. He doesn't even have one.

Secretly, Danny thinks he wishes he did. He keeps his theory to himself, though.

"You want a ride?" Jackson asks. "I could ask my dad." And Danny's once again reminded why Jackson's his best friend. Underneath all that nonchalant, "too cool" BS, he's actually a really decent guy.

Still, he shakes his head. "It's fine. I'm good." He doesn't want to bother Mr. Whittemore, and he knows how much his friend hates asking his parents for, well, anything. Ever since they told him he was adopted, he's got this whole "I don't want anything from you" thing going on, which he kind of gets, but at the same time kind of doesn't. He doesn't say anything about that, though, either. He wouldn't know anything about it; both his biological parents are still around, still married, and if they fight from time to time and his dad works late more often than not, well that's just part of it.

Jackson walks with him to his bike propped up outside, even though he doesn't need to and Danny can tell he'd rather be back upstairs studying. Like he said: not a complete jerk. Just like Lydia's not a complete bimbo, and he's not at _all_ interested in that girl Jessica he took to the formal, or, like, any girl. Period.

They all have their little secrets he guesses.

"See you tomorrow," he says as he climbs on his bike, and he's just about to start the eight minute, thirty-two second (give or take some for windspeed and the fact that Danny just demolished half a cheese pizza) bike ride back to his house – not like he's done this a few times or anything – when he hears something. He stops, one foot still propped on a pedal and the other still planted on the ground, and he listens.

There it is again.

He frowns.

"What is that?" It sounds like yelling, coming from the house across the street. It's a man's voice, kind of familiar, but he can't really place it.

Jackson doesn't look too bothered by it, and Danny knows his friend enough to know that it's not just the 'pretending not to be bothered' but the actual, legitimate 'I really don't give a crap.'

Danny frowns deeper. "Isn't that…" He's trying to think of the name, but he's totally drawing a blank. He blames Algebra II.

"Lahey," Jackson supplies dully.

"Right." Danny nods. "Isaac, right?" His answer's a particularly loud slam of a door, and he looks up to see a boy he recognizes from school – _Isaac Lahey_, his algebra-addled brain reminds him helpfully – coming out of the front door at close to a sprint, and an older guy that Danny finally recognizes as the coach of the high school's swim team comes right out after him, yelling for him to come back. He doesn't, though. He gets on his bike, and wow…no, seriously, _wow_, Danny doesn't think he's ever seen anyone pedal that fast before. It's like he's running for his life or something, and not just from his angry dad, and for some reason, Danny feels his stomach twist sickly and his hair stand on end. Mr. Lahey yells after Isaac for a few seconds longer before he seems to give up and disappears, and the door slams behind him.

Danny's suddenly struck with the strange urge to take off after him. Not Mr. Lahey, but Isaac. He knows how upset he can get when his parents yell, and that's at each other; he can't imagine his dad yelling at him like that, and he's got this weird feeling like he just wants to…he doesn't know. _Be_ there for Isaac? Someone needs to; why not him.

But then the rational part of his brain that he thought he left somewhere between the pages of chapters 8 and 10 of his textbook manages to wriggle its way back between his ears, and he realizes that he doesn't actually _know _Isaac Lahey. He's seen him a few times at lacrosse practice, and he thinks he might've had a few classes with him, but he's not actually sure if he's ever had a real conversation with him _ever_, and he's probably been traumatized enough for one night without some complete stranger chasing him down on his bike and tackle hugging him to the ground.

And Danny has no idea where that last idea came from, but he'd kind of like it to go back there, please. Thank you.

Besides, it's way past his curfew; he needs to get home, before his mom has a conniption fit or something and grounds him for the first part of summer. Because that would _suck_.

So, instead, he tells Jackson goodbye and starts home. But he does, in the back of his head, promise that the next time he sees Isaac, he's going to talk to him. Not about the argument, not about what he saw, but just…talk.

And he does.

It's the next day at school at lunch time. Danny's just finished taking his Algebra II final, and he's both a little mad because he totally over-studied for it, and really relieved, because it's pretty much smooth-sailing from here. He's got his lunchbox – Green Lantern; his favorite's actually Northstar, but they don't make lunchboxes of him – with the lunch his mom packed special for him, and he's about to go over to his usual table with Jackson and Lydia and the others when something catches his eye.

Over at one of the tables on the far side of the room, sitting pretty much by himself even in a cafeteria where empty seats are almost as hard to come by as, say, a Northstar lunchbox, is Isaac Lahey. He's got a book out in front of him that looks like a text book, and he looks like he's focusing on it so hard, Danny's half expecting it to start spouting the secrets of the universe in the Voice of God or something. But it doesn't, and Isaac's really just a boy sitting alone at a table with his shoulders hunched and his head in his hands and there's absolutely no reason for it, but Danny feels his something in his chest twist painfully.

He looks _pitiful._

Before Danny's really even sure what he's doing, he's changing directions, and instead of making a beeline straight for his usual table, he's going to the other side of the room. Towards Isaac.

And as he gets closer, he starts to notice other things. Like how Isaac's hair is really curly, but not _too_ curly, and he thinks it would probably be really soft if he reached out and touched it—

He derails that thought quickly.

But others quickly rush in to take its place. Isaac's clothes look too big for him. Not in the 'trying to be gangster' way, either, but like they're actually someone else's clothes that he's wearing. If anything, they only serve to highlight how lanky he is. Danny's no beefcake himself, but he's starting to fill out – thank God. Isaac, not so much, though. Danny thinks, actually, if he looks close enough, that he can see the ridges of his spine through his sweater. Which, by the way, he shouldn't be wearing, because it's, like, t-shirt and shorts weather outside. It's April, for crying out loud.

He's almost right up next to him when he notices the rest. The dark circles under Isaac's eyes. And wow, they are really, _really_ blue, but not the 'jump out at you' kind of blue like Jackson's; they're a little subtler, but Danny actually thinks they're prettier for it.

Even if they do look really, really sad.

He tries to shake that off, too, because there's that weird urge to hug him again that he really doesn't think would be appropriate in the grand scheme of things. He focuses, instead, on trying to read over his shoulder. He tells himself he's not being nosey; he's just making sure he's not about to interrupt him if he's studying for a final or something.

Closer inspection, however, reveals that Isaac's not actually studying at all. Not unless the school is suddenly offering a course in...is that _Spider-Man_?

Okay, that's oddly cute.

Satisfied that he's not disturbing anything, Danny summons up all of his not-inconsiderable courage and slides smoothly into the seat next to Isaac.

He's not expecting him to flinch. And that should probably be his cue to get up and walk quickly in the opposite direction – especially because he can feel Jackson's eyes burning incredulous, _what the hell are you doing_ holes into the back of his Hollister shirt – but all he gets is that strange urge to hug him again. Seriously. It's becoming a problem.

For the sake of his sanity and, you know, not freaking Isaac out, he very casually puts his lunchbox down on the table and very deliberately opens it. He can feel Isaac's eyes on him as he does, even though he's pretending to still be focusing on his comic, and Danny's likewise pretending not to notice.

Eventually, though, he decides to break the silence. Mostly just because it's pretty clear Isaac isn't going to.

"Studying hard, huh?" he says, and _hah_, that gets Isaac to actually look at him, even if it is a little strangely. He nods towards his comic book, and Isaac glances down and seems to figure it out.

His cheeks flush a little, and he subconsciously curls his arm over the comic book like he's trying to hide it. And that's not what Danny was going for at all.

He tries to avert disaster, donning his nicest smile. "I'm more of a Green Lantern kind of guy, myself," he says, and picks up the lid of his lunchbox to illustrate.

Isaac's eyebrow kind of ticks. "DC?"

It takes Danny a second to realize Isaac actually just said something, and another second to realize that it probably shouldn't make him feel as victorious as he does. He tamps down on it, going for a more casual shrug as he starts to pull his lunch out of his box. Sandwich, orange juice, carrot sticks, and a mass of tinfoil that makes him smile, because he knows exactly what's inside. "Not really. I like Northstar better, but no one ever knows who he is." Especially not his group of friends. He tried talking to Jackson once about comics, but he probably would've had better luck getting help on his history homework from his red Doberman puppy, Kekipu. He just kind of got this glazed-over look and immediately and not-even-a-little-bit-subtly switched the conversation back over to lacrosse, and that was that.

Not Isaac, though. He actually seems to brighten up a little bit; Danny thinks he sees a hint of a smile on his face, and it makes Danny oddly pleased to know that he did that.

"Alpha Flight?" he says, and Danny could've danced. He doesn't think he's ever had anyone know who he's talking about; not even the guy at the bookstore.

"You've read it?"

Isaac gives a little bit of a nod. "My brother—" he starts, but then he stops just as abruptly, his eyes going a little bit wide and his jaw clenching visibly beneath his fair skin.

He's retreating; Danny can practically see it happening, and no, no, no, he doesn't want that. He scrambles, wracking his brain for something, anything to keep Isaac from going back to that quiet little place he was when Danny came and sat down.

Then his eyes land on the little wad of tinfoil, and he gets an idea. Moving quickly, and with a little less pomp and circumstance than this little bundle of joy probably deserves, Danny unwraps the tinfoil. Inside are two almost perfectly-round, hushpuppy-looking balls of fried dough, and before Danny is even really sure what he's doing, he's holding out the now open tinfoil package to Isaac.

Isaac blinks. He looks between Danny and the tinfoil, and after a second, it occurs to Danny that he's really not sure what he's doing. Which probably make sense, because he pretty much just shoved them in the guy's face. It's just…Tutu always says nothing makes a bad day better than a little something sweet, and Isaac looks like he could use a better day.

"Andagi," he explains, only to realize that…probably doesn't help. "It's like a donut. My mom made them for me, kind of like a good luck for finals. You, uh…you want one?" He chuckles a little awkwardly. "I mean, now that I've practically thrown them at you."

For a second, Isaac just keeps looking at him, and Danny's about to give up hope, but then Isaac reaches out and picks, with a little more hesitation and caution than is really necessary, one of the andagi from the tinfoil.

Again, it takes Danny a second to realize what's just happened, but then he smiles, and brings the bundle back to himself, picking the last one out of the package. Normally, he saves them until last, but he thinks this is a special circumstance.

Isaac doesn't immediately go to try his, even though Danny's pretty sure he can _see_ his mouth watering, so Danny figures maybe he should lead by example. He takes a bite out of his, and yeah, they're just as awesome as they always are. Sweet, and crispy-crunchy on the outside, but all moist and cake-like on the inside. They're just…they're awesome.

And finally, Isaac takes the hint, and Danny tries not to look like he's staring, but he's, like, freakishly absorbed in watching the look on Isaac's face as he takes the first bite of what Danny's pretty sure should be classified as an illegal substance.

It's like a light bulb. It's not even gradual. Isaac takes a bite out of it, and his eyes go a little wide, and _yes_! There it is! Danny sees it! A real, honest to goodness smile, and it's such a nice sight that Danny can't even be a little bit mad when Isaac practically inhales the rest. No, he's smiling too, probably a little bit stupidly, because he feels like he just did a good thing. He looked so sad before, and now he's happy, and Danny…Danny did that.

Well, okay, his mom made the andagi. But Danny was selfless enough to share, so that's gotta count for something, right?

"They're good, right?" Danny says. They must be, because Isaac's licking his fingers.

Isaac nods. "They're great. Thank you." His voice is quiet, but he sounds so genuine. And suddenly, Danny's a little bit sad again, because here he is, with two of them in his lunch and a whole freaking cookie tray of them at home. And Isaac just gets one little taste of them, and he acts like Christmas just came early.

Danny has half a mind to offer him the rest of his – he's pretty sure Isaac would take it, because he actually _looks_ hungry, and Danny finds himself wondering if maybe it wouldn't be _too_ crazy to maybe offer him half of his sandwich, too. But before he can do any of that, Isaac suddenly jumps.

For a second, Danny's confused, because it looks kind of like someone just zapped Isaac with one of those prank handshake gags, but then he reaches into the pocket of his too-big, ragged jeans – and dang it, now Danny feels guilty about his clothes, too – and pulls out a clamshell cell phone.

Danny doesn't think he's imagining the way his hands shake as he flips it open and checks the screen. He tries not to pry, but he can see it's a text message, and he thinks he sees _Dad_ on the top of the screen, but he can't be sure, because before he can really get a good look, Isaac snaps it shut and shoves it roughly back into his pocket.

And then he's leaving. He's closing his book with the comic still inside, and he's stammering out an apology to the floor, because that's where his eyes are fixed. And before Danny can even ask him where the heck he's going or why he suddenly looks so…sad? No. _Scared_…

He's gone.

He tries to ignore it. He gathers up his things, but he doesn't go back to his usual table, just slips off to his next class early. He spends the rest of the day thinking about it. That night, too. When he tries to go to sleep, all he can see is those wide blue eyes, and he wonders what it said.

He wonders about it all night.

And the next morning.

And _all_ day at school – which, by the way, sucks when he's trying to focus on his French test, especially since a certain head of curly hair is right in front of him, pointedly refusing to acknowledge his existence.

By the time he gets home, he's had enough. He's always been good with computers...

It's not as hard as it should be. A little bit of asking around to get a few details he needs, a couple Google how-to's, and about five hours, and he gets what he's looking for.

_How was the final?_

_ Ok, I think. _

_ Good._

That's it. That's all. Three texts, sent back and forth between Isaac's dad and him. He checks the time, and that's definitely it, but…but he feels like he's missing something.

Turns out, though, it's actually a little harder than he thought to hack into someone's phone. At least, it's harder than he thought not to get caught doing it. Mr. Lahey finds out, and the police get involved, and Danny doesn't know why, but he can't bring himself to explain why he did it, just that he wanted to see if he could.

He doesn't tell anyone about the fear he saw in those eyes.

After a while, he thinks maybe he just imagined it, anyway. Kids do stupid things, like his parents said. He straightened up after that, put it behind him. The last few days of school came and went, Danny got A's in all his classes, graduated middle school fifth in the class, and spent the summer hanging out with Lydia and Jackson and his family in Hawaii.

His first day of high school, when he walked into the cafeteria, he saw it: a familiar head of curly hair, bent over a book, its owner sitting alone at the table.

And then he saw Jackson and Lydia sitting at a table on the other side, and, without so much as a second glance, he went and sat down with them.


	2. Chapter 2

It's the end of April, and for the first time in as long as he can remember, Danny actually doesn't want the year to end. Too much has changed since it's started. Jackson left a few weeks ago after Spring Break, saying he needed to "find himself." And if he's being honest, there's a part of Danny that's kind of glad he did, because there for a while…Jackson wasn't himself. He hopes that whatever he finds, he can be happy with.

With Jackson gone, the whole Beacon Hills High social order's pretty much screwed. Everyone's scrambling to carve out a new piece for themselves, to take the place of top dog. So far, though, no-one's really making the cut, and Danny's pretty much content to sit back – way, _way_ back – and watch the bloodshed.

And on the subject of bloodshed, Lydia's been strangely less…he doesn't want to say _bitchy_, but, well, if the Prada pumps fit. She's even stopped acting like she's _not_ the smartest girl in the school. That, Danny thinks, is definitely a nice change.

So, yeah, they're not all bad. As Danny gets through the line that day at lunch and starts over towards his table, he feels himself smiling a little. That's changed, too, and even though it feels weird seeing Jackson's usual seat at the head of the table empty, there are some new faces that kind of help soften the blow.

There's Lydia, looking beautiful as ever, despite the fact that today was a total crapfest of three tests in a row, and it's not actually even finals week yet.

There's Scott and Allison, who he's almost positive are actually _physically_ attached magnetically at the hip, because he doesn't think he can remember a time when he's seen them in the same room where they haven't been close enough to touch. Which is cute, in that sort of diabetes-inducing way.

Then there's Stiles, who he's realized is not nearly as annoying as everyone seems to think. He's a little hyperactive, and Danny would bet good money that he's got a little-lot of ADHD going on in there, but he's actually really funny once he gets to talking – which is something Danny's learned you've got to be careful with, because the hard part's getting him to _stop _– and he's right up there with Lydia level-genius. He can already imagine the two of them standing on the stage giving their Valedictorian and Salutatorian speeches, and Danny takes a second to make a silent prayer that Stiles can keep his mind on track long enough to not devolve from a graduation speech into a thorough and _excruciatingly_ detailed history of the invention and innovation of condoms.

And sitting next to Stiles, there's the newest face in their little group. Well, the newest head of hair, Danny thinks a little amusedly, because he's got his head buried in a book. But it's a nice head of hair. Light brown, and curled just enough that Danny thinks it'd catch his fingers a little if he ran them through it. It's got that tousled sort of just-got-out-of-bed thing going that people spend hundreds of bucks worth of products trying to get.

Somehow, Isaac doesn't strike Danny as the products kind of guy, with his over-sized and threadbare sweaters and long-sleeve t-shirt, and thrift store blue jeans that look about one belt cinch away from falling off his narrow hips. He did hit this leather phase a little while ago, right around the time he was a suspect in his dad's murder – the charges were dropped, he reminds himself, and he thinks it's kind of ironic saying it about someone else, especially about _Isaac_ – but even _that's_ too big for him. Danny actually has a hard time remembering the last time he saw his wrists outside the field, the way he's always got his sleeves pulled up over his hands.

It works for him, though, Danny's decided. He's not really sure when he did – Isaac's always kind of been in his periphery, but he's always been orbiting outside Danny's circle.

That's changed now, too. There's no telling why, with the way things have been going lately, but Isaac just kind of _appeared_ with Scott and Stiles about a couple weeks ago, and he hasn't left. Not that Danny's complaining. Isaac's…cute. He's quiet, but every now and then, he'll mutter a wry little comment or a joke that Danny's half-convinced he doesn't expect anyone to hear, and he gets this semi-surprised look on his face when people laugh, like that's the kind of stuff that goes on in his head all the time, and he can't believe someone else thinks it's funny.

It doesn't hurt that he's easy on the eyes. Like, really, _really_ easy. Clear skin, cheekbones a guy could cut himself on, and those _eyes_. Not that Isaac seems to realize it. Which is both kind of endearing, and also kind of frustrating, because he's just a little bit _beautiful_, but he's always hiding it.

Or maybe just hiding in general. And wow, Danny just made himself sad.

Seriously, though, it's kind of like with Lydia: he wants to grab him and shake some sense into him. He wants to tell him, _hello_, he's freaking gorgeous.

Except Danny feels like it's different with him. Lydia _knows_ she's smart; she just chooses to hide it. With Isaac, though…he doesn't know. He almost gets the feeling he has no idea.

And suddenly, Danny gets a thought. With everything else that's been changing…he wonders if maybe that can change, too.

And if maybe…he can be the one to change it.

Before Danny's even really sure what he's doing, he's changing directions, and instead of going to one of the seats at the end of the table where he normally sits, he's going to the other side of their little group. Towards Isaac.

He slides smoothly into the seat next to him, and tries to ignore the sudden weird sense of déjà vu. And, for that matter, the weird look everyone gives him. Yes, he knows he's breaking the natural order of things. But hey, sometimes, things need a little mixing up, and Isaac looks like he could use a friend today. There's just something about him…so, Danny tries to convey the '_be cool, guys_' through his eyes, and very pointedly starts eating his lunch.

Sure enough, everyone takes the hint, and conversation picks right back up like it never stopped, and the world goes right on spinning just like it always does. Even though he's at the end of their little group, Danny doesn't have any trouble joining in on their conversation. What little openings Lydia and Stiles are leaving open, that is, because they're in what's apparently a very heated argument over whether or not something called _aconitum napellus _is worse than _noveboracense_. And apparently, it's an A-B kind of conversation, because when Danny tries to chime in and figure out what the hell it is they're talking about – to the tune of "please tell me that's not gonna be on the chemistry final" – freaking _everyone_ at the table looks at each other, and the subject is suddenly and not very subtly at all switched over to who did or did not do their Econ homework.

Well, okay then. Danny chalks up another point to the "my friends are weird" score card, and decides to just let that one be. He's got other things on his mind, anyway. It was his sister's Kalea's birthday last weekend, and in keeping with the family tradition, his mom fried up a whole big batch of the Mahealani family favorite desert. And since there's still a crap ton left, even after his mom pawned off whole Tupperware containers on every one of Kalea's friends when they left the party, they've still got enough to feed a small army back at home. Which means, naturally, that they found their way into his backpack this morning sometime when he wasn't looking. _Cough_mother_cough_.

He's just glad he found them before he crammed his chem. book in this morning.

But no, he was kind of sort of expecting them – his mom's always hiding little goodies in his bag, especially when she's on a diet and needs to have said goodies out of the house ASAP – so he managed to rescue them before they could be pancaked in the bottom of his bag. He's got them, now, and after finishing off the square of cardboard and cheese they call pizza _ironically_, he pulls them out of his pocket and starts unwrapping the tinfoil.

"Holy God, what is _that?_"

Danny winces. He's been made.

He looks up from his parcel to see all eyes on him. Crap. Having good food at lunch is kind of like having gum in class – if someone sees it, _everybody_ wants some. It's like a freaking feeding frenzy. And as it happens, two andagi are _not_ enough to go around. Especially not with the way Scott eats. Seriously, he's got like a black hole or something somewhere between his mouth and his stomach.

"Just some leftovers," Danny hedges. That makes them sound slightly less attractive.

"His mom makes them." It's Lydia, chiming in just in the nick of time. "Andagi, right?"

He nods, but it's kind of distracted, because out of the corner of his eye, he could swear he sees Isaac sit up a little straighter.

"An-what-i?" Stiles says.

Lydia rolls her eyes, but Danny can tell her heart's not really in it. She may not want to date him – and truth be told, he's not actually sure Stiles is interested anymore – but she's definitely got a soft spot for Stilinski. "Andagi. It's like a Hawaiian donut."

Danny feels a little spark of indignation, because that totally doesn't do them justice, but…well, that's probably about as good a description as he could give. They're pretty much deep fried batter, and that's kind of the definition for a donut. They're just…_better_.

"Sweet!" And without warning – _or invitation_ – Stiles is reaching across the table towards _Danny's_ andagi, and Danny can see the intent to take in his eyes.

He smacks him.

Stiles yelps and jerks his hand back, and Danny feels a smug sort of satisfaction as he sits back down holding his hand. He thinks he hears him muttering something about how he's worse than some guy named Derek or something, but he ignores it. He's defended his territory; he's happy, and he plucks one of the andagi from the tinfoil and allows himself a taste of victory.

"I thought you were supposed to be the nice one," Stiles mumbles plaintively.

Maybe it's just Danny's imagination, or some sort of wishful thinking, but he's pretty sure he catches Isaac looking at him again, and when he realizes that the only thing Isaac's got in front of him is an econ textbook, he gets an idea.

"I'm plenty nice," he says, and then he turns around and holds out the last remaining andagi to Isaac. "Want one?"

In hindsight, maybe it was a little mean to put Isaac on the spot like that. But honestly, he was probably going to end up offering him one anyway, and at least this way, he manages to do it without looking like a complete creeper.

Isaac hesitates for a second. His blue eyes are a little wide, and he looks a little bit like he's seen a ghost. Danny's just about to assure him they're not, like, poisoned or anything, but then Isaac reaches out and takes it. He mumbles a thank you, and turns back to his book, and Danny's pretty sure he sees a hint of a blush coloring his cheeks, which is actually _too_ cute.

He's smiling when he turns back to the group, only to be met with four looks ranging anywhere from questioning – Scott – to knowing – Lydia and, oddly, Stiles, who by the way waggles his eyebrow in a way that makes Danny want to throw something at him before Isaac looks up, because he's not _that_ obvious.

Is he?

But then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Isaac take a bite, and his whole face lights up a little bit, and his lips curve up into this little smile. And there it is again, that weird sense of déjà vu.

He brushes it off, though, and just lets himself enjoy the sight of that smile. Isaac should do it more often.

Danny thinks he can definitely try to make that happen.

It's not until he catches a pair of eyes that almost look like they're two shades of blue in one, that he realizes he's staring. There's a moment of panic, and _oh my God, I'm an idiot_, but then his brain catches up to his hormones – or is it the other way around? – and he realizes that Isaac's still smiling that small, kind of crooked smile of his, and he finds himself smiling right back.

Yeah, he thinks. He can definitely make that happen.

And he does. At least, he tries to, and he's pretty sure he succeeds.

The next day at lunch, he sits down in the same place, on the other side of Isaac. He gets a few looks this time, too, but they aren't nearly as buggy this time. Stiles coughs something into his hand that Danny can't quite make out and he and Lydia exchange very significant-looking glances, but then everything goes back to normal.

He's got another tinfoil bundle of joy today, too. It's a little bigger than yesterday's, though. He had a little crisis of conscience yesterday; he felt guilty about smacking Stiles over a pastry, especially after Harris spent _most_ of the next class harassing him. Seriously, he's not really sure what Stiles did to piss him off, but Harris is more than even his usual level of asshole to the poor kid. So, in a sort of apology, he's brought enough for everyone.

Not that Stiles seems to need it today. He's in just as high spirits as he always is, rambling to Scott about a new apartment, and there's that name again – _Derek_.

He wonders if he's got anything to do with that nice little hickey he's got sticking out just over his collar, or the patch of what looks suspiciously like stubble burn on his neck. If it does, good for him. The guy deserves someone that makes him happy, and now maybe everyone can stop coming to _Danny_ on all things gay and fabulous.

If not, he should seriously consider switching aftershaves.

Either way, Danny's not gonna ask. It's not that he's not curious or anything, but he's of the opinion people should tell him what they want to tell him when they want to tell him. If it doesn't hurt him not knowing, then he's not gonna pry. Besides, Danny can put two and two together. Mega hickey plus new apartment generally leads to only one thing, and of all the things Stiles could describe in his usual incredible detail, that's one thing Danny thinks he could live without, thanks. His own sex life – or lack thereof, he guesses – is troubling enough.

Speaking of sex life, Isaac—

No, let him try that transition again.

Speaking of _troubling_—

No, that's not really good either.

Screw it.

Isaac's in a better mood today, or at least he looks like it. He doesn't have his head buried in a textbook, which is freaking super, because as nice as the top of his head and shoulders are, his face is even better. Especially when he sees that, once again, Danny has brought treats.

"My mom's used to cooking for a big family," Danny explains to him while the others slip back into a conversation about their summer plans, because he looks at him just a little bit curiously, and Danny assumes it's not because he's interested in what Danny's doing for break. Although that would be pretty sweet. "We've still got enough to feed a small army and probably stop world hunger in the pantry."

The sad thing is, he's only exaggerating a little bit. He should probably even feel guilty about it, except it's hard to feel much of anything besides this weird little giddy rush when Isaac actually _laughs_ at his joke.

It's not much. It's mostly silent, and there's just this one little jump of his shoulders. He bows his head when he does it, too, except he can't quite hide that crooked smile that Danny thinks he might actually be developing an addiction to or something.

It's still a laugh, though, and it's still kind of perfect, in that understated, completely oblivious kind of way. God, how can he not _know_?

And yet, that's kind of perfect, too. The guys Danny's dated, in retrospect, have all been self-obsessed assholes that think they're the best the world's got to offer and then some.

Not that he thinks of Isaac like that, or at least that he thinks Isaac'll ever be like that. It's not like he's not trying to _woo_ him with Hawaiian pastries.

Seriously.

He's not.


	3. Chapter 3

He's totally trying to woo him with Hawaiian pastries.

It occurs to him Monday night of the last full week of April, about a month after he first decided to start sitting next to Isaac at lunch, as he's standing flour-dusted and victorious in his kitchen over a baking sheet of freshly-made, still-steaming andagi.

Tomorrow's a special occasion. It's April 23rd: Lover's Day. It's also Take a Chance Day, which Danny doesn't think is coincidence. In the spirit of the holiday, underappreciated as it is, Danny decides he's going to do it.

He's going to tell Isaac how he feels about him.

See, he's learned a lot about Isaac this past month. Way more than he knew before.

He's smart, for one. Not, like, book smart, the way Lydia and Stiles and even Danny himself are, but the way his mind works is kind of amazing, in its own way. Especially when he doesn't think anyone's paying attention.

Since both their usual partners left the school – for Danny, it's Jackson, and for Isaac, it's Erica – they end up being lab partners for the rest of the year. At first, he was a little worried, because Isaac and molecular formulas didn't seem to get along. But after a lunch with his chemistry book and a _totally_ innocent one-on-one study session at Danny's, he got the hang of it pretty quickly. And when it came time for the actual lab, Danny realized something: Isaac has a _freakish_ memory.

"In a good way, I mean," he told him when he accidentally let that slip during lab one day. Isaac had just, without so much as glancing at the book, parroted off the first three steps of the lab, with temperatures and amounts and everything, like it was nothing. "Freakish in a good way."

Funny, too. Those little muttered comments Danny first started noticing a couple weeks ago are apparently just the tip of the iceberg. He's got a wicked sense of humor, dry as bones, but not really biting or cruel like Danny finds a lot of people's are. He's that right mix of sarcastic and slapstick, and even though he doesn't joke as often as some of their group do – _cough_Stiles_cough_ – when he does, it's pretty much guaranteed they're gonna laugh. And when they do, that small sort of halfway-there smile on Isaac's face grows, and…wow. Has Danny mentioned he has dimples? Because he does. He has _really_ great dimples.

And as Greenburg found out the hard way last practice when he got a little too rough trying to get past Danny at the goal, he's also apparently really protective of his friends. He didn't say anything at the time; Isaac's not really a _words_ kind of guy. No, he's more a man of action, which Danny can definitely get behind, and the next time that whistle blew, Greenburg was on his back before any of them could blink, and Isaac was standing over him with one arm out and the other hitched up in an unapologetic shrug.

It's things like that – brutally and effectively clothes-lining a teammate on Danny's behalf – that still have him hoping there's a chance they could be more than just friends.

Sure, he could just be being a good teammate, and there are definitely worse things than having a friend like Isaac watching his back like that, but he can't help thinking there might be something there. Maybe it's just wishful thinking, it's just…the way he smiles at him in the hall, even if he bows his head after he does it; the way Isaac, who's got the most strictly-enforced space bubble Danny thinks he's ever seen, doesn't seem to mind it when they're sitting so close their shoulders are pressed together and their knees are touching under the table; the way he apparently decided after that first study session that Danny's window is his own personal doggy door. Hell, Kalea already thinks he's got a boyfriend, and he's pretty sure he can only say 'he's just a friend' so many more times without knowing for _sure_ that's all he is without losing his mind.

Thus, the holiday. Thus the andagi and the frankly _ridiculous_ amount of time he spent trying to translate his mother's 'just a pinch's and 'about a handful's into actual quantifiable measurements.

Thus the bundle of nerves in his stomach as his little sister – except he's not supposed to call her that out loud, now that she's officially a middle schooler – samples one of desserts to tell him whether they're edible or not.

He thought about just asking his mom to make some for him, so he could know they would turn out well, but that would require an explanation. Last time he asked, it was after he caught his ex cheating on him, and even though these circumstances are probably a little bit better, if still kind of frustrating, he doesn't really want to explain to her that he's attempting to use simple sugars and complex carbohydrates to win the affections of a crazy attractive, soft spoken, emotionally damaged classmate who may not even be into guys.

…then again, she's probably heard worse from him.

That would've felt like cheating, though. If he's gonna do this, then he's gonna do it right. Even if it does make him feel a little bit Martha Stewart.

So, here he is, watching his sister as she chews thoughtfully and _way_ more slowly than she needs to, and resisting the urge to fling a spoon at her and tell her to hurry up.

Finally, though, she nods, and once she finishes swallowing her mouthful of fresh pastry, she smiles. "If I weren't your sister, I'd totally marry you," she says, and you know, it's probably a good thing that Danny didn't try one of the andagi, because he probably would've choked on it.

As it is, he just coughs and tries to cover his flush by turning around and starting to clean up the counter. "I'm not trying to get him to marry me," he grumbles. "I just want to get him to _date_ me." Brushing a little bit of stray flour off the counter, he sighs. "Heck, I'd settle for getting him to realize I'm even interested in him."

"You really don't think he noticed?" Kalea asks. She's sitting on the counter, swinging her bare feet back and forth into the cabinet where the finish on the wood is worn down in two spots. Her feet hit the top of them; Danny's feet are to blame for the bottoms. He's done his time on the counter, too, taste-testing and badgering and everything else that comes with back-seat cooking. "I mean, don't take this the wrong way, brah, but you're not exactly the queen of subtle."

This time, Danny does thwap her with a spoon.

She yelps, even though he didn't hit her that hard, and mock-glares at him. "I'm just trying to help."

"Try harder," Danny replies.

"Okay, fine, how about 'he'd have to be an idiot not to fall head over heels for you?'"

Danny shoots her a look. "I'm being serious, 'lea."

"So am I." And then she plucks the big wooden mixing spoon out of his hand and bops him on the head with it. "It'll be fine," she says, and then hops down off the counter. Danny feels the knot in his stomach loosen up enough for him to smile as she starts out of the kitchen, and he feels a flutter of encouragement when she not-so-subtly swipes another andagi off the cookie sheet. "Besides," she adds as she heads off into the kitchen, "I totally caught him checking out your ass last week."

And once again, Danny is eternally grateful there's nothing in his mouth, because clever as his sister is, she is not yet CPR certified, and his parents are out.

It takes him a good few minutes to remember how to breathe right again, and by then, he can already hear the sounds of the Discovery Channel on the TV in the living room. His sister's kind of a nut, he thinks.

He's kind of lucky to have her.

…and that's about where his luck runs out. Because as it turns out, all the work he did making the andagi, and the trouble he went through packing it and being, like, obsessively sure that it didn't get smushed or anything, it's all pretty much for nothing.

Isaac's not there. He doesn't see him before class, around his locker, around _Danny's_ locker; he doesn't see him in French class. And when he gets to the lunch room, sure enough, his seat's empty. Scott's, too, and come to find out after about three minutes of sitting listening to complete and utter silence save the freaking machine-gun tapping of Stiles's pencil on the table, neither he, Allison, nor Lydia are in very talkative moods.

Not for the first time, Danny feels like he's missed something. But even if he was going to break his standing rule of 'don't ask, let them tell,' one look at the stress lines on all three of their faces, and he realizes that today…just isn't that day.

About ten minutes in, after Stiles checks his phone for the fifteenth time since Danny sat down, he comes up with a lame excuse about having to go study for the chem. quiz next period. They don't need to know that he and Isaac spent three hours on it Sunday night, just like he doesn't need to know why Stiles looks so relieved he could cry when he checks his phone the last time. Maybe one of these days, they'll see fit to tell him what the big secret is, but right now, he's got other things to worry about.

Strangely, the difference between covalent and ionic bonds isn't one of them. Which is probably why he accomplishes _pretty_ much nothing in his studying, and he eventually gives up and shuffles on to class a few minutes early.

Imagine his surprise when, a few minutes later, chief among those 'things to worry about' slides into the seat next to him like he was never missing at all. He even flashes Danny one of his trademark half-smiles when he glances over at him, and Danny can't help noticing his hair's a little wet damp, like he just got out of the shower. It's sticking up a little funny, too.

Without thinking, Danny reaches up to fix it, and it's not until he's got his fingers carded through Isaac's curly hair – and wow, it really is soft – that he realizes what he's done. He freezes. Isaac's looking at him, his expression somewhere between surprised and confused, and Danny expects at any moment for him to smack Danny's hand away, because even _Danny_ knows that's a _teensy_ bit over the top.

Except he doesn't. He just kind of sits there, and his blue eyes are locked on Danny's, and for the second time in that many days, Danny kind of forgets how to breathe.

And then the door opens, and just like that, the spell's broken. Danny jerks his hand back, thankfully not pulling Isaac's hair in the process, and turns to see—

Lydia.

Who is, by the way, pretending not to know she interrupted something, and doing a really craptastic job of it.

For the sake of not losing it at one of his best friends, Danny elects to ignore her, and turns back around to Isaac, who's…still…looking at him.

Okay then.

"Missed you at lunch today," he says in what he hopes is a casual voice. He thinks he pulls it off okay. Only Isaac keeps looking at him, and Danny could swear he sees the corner of his lips twitch. Suddenly desperate to be doing anything, Danny reaches over and grabs his backpack. The tinfoil bundle isn't all that hard to find, and he pulls it out, holding it out for Isaac. "Brought you something."

For a second, Isaac doesn't move, but then he reaches out and takes the package, and he's _definitely_ smiling, now, which somehow makes Danny's heart beat faster while simultaneously easing his nerves. Isaac has that effect on him. He just feels…calm. Even though Isaac's a little bit jumpy himself.

Somehow – at this point, Danny's, like, ninety-nine percent sure he has superpowers – Isaac manages to open the tinfoil without ripping it anywhere, and if possible, his smile brightens. "They're different," he says without even tasting one.

Danny's stomach does a weird sort of somersault. "I made them," he says, and then manages a smile of his own that hopefully doesn't look as nervous as he feels. "Tried to, anyway. My mom apparently doesn't believe in writing down recipes, or, you know, actually _having_ recipes that don't involve freakish amounts of guestimation and trial and error. So, I can't make any promises."

Isaac doesn't argue, but then, Danny's not really expecting him to.

He's also not expecting him to look Danny dead in the eyes and put the _whole_ thing in his mouth. And that…_really_ shouldn't be as attractive as it is, but Isaac's definitely a wonderful, beautiful freak of nature, and if Danny didn't have it bad for him before, he does now.

Especially when he leans in, one elbow on the desk and his whole body turned to face Danny. He's close enough that Danny can actually smell him. Not his cologne – he doesn't actually think Isaac wears cologne – but actually _him_. He smells…earthy, Danny thinks is a good word for it. Clean. Almost like the forest after the rain, except that's kind of cliché for Danny's tastes, and it doesn't really do him justice. There's this sort of energy to the way he smells; it makes Danny's hair raise and his skin tingle. Not like a forest after the rain.

More like the forest after the storm.

"Don't tell your mom," Isaac says, and either Danny's imagination is having a field day, or his voice is actually kind of husky. Low. "I think I like yours better."

At this distance, Danny's pretty sure there's no way Isaac can't hear his heart racing. Hell, Lydia can probably hear it on the other side of the room. And the fact that she is, in fact, _in the room_ – and she's no longer alone – should probably mean a lot more to him than it does, but it's kind of hard to focus on anything but the fact that Isaac's close enough that all he'd have to do is lean forward just a little, maybe an inch or two, and he could be kissing hi—

"Everyone spread out!"

For once, Danny's the one that jumps like he's been shot, only to have to nobly resist the urge to pound his head on the desk when he sees Mr. Harris standing at the front of the room. Somehow, during his and Isaac's…_conversation_, most of the whole class has trickled in. Granted, they don't seem to be paying Isaac and Danny any attention.

Danny still chokes back a whine. C-blocked by the chem. teacher.

That's just not right.

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches movement, and he stops focusing on the unfairness of it all just in time to see Isaac flash him another crooked smile that looks a little bit mischievous.

It takes him a second to notice his cheeks are pooched out.

It takes him another second to realize the remaining andagi is nowhere to be seen.

It takes him the rest of the freaking day to convince himself that killing his chemistry teacher is actually a bad idea.


	4. Chapter 4

By the next afternoon, Danny's having serious second thoughts on the whole 'thou shalt not murder thy chemistry teacher' thing.

"Someone's in a good mood," Stiles says by way of greeting as Danny drops his tray on the table maybe a little harder than he needs to. The resulting clack earns him a couple jumps from the others at the table, and some funny looks from the people around them.

He ignores them. "How could you tell?" he asks, and frowns when it comes out sounding a little more sarcastic than he means it to. He's not the type to sulk, and he's definitely not the type to take it out on the other people. Especially not his friends.

It's just….

"Let me guess," Lydia says, except she's got this knowing look in her eyes that makes Danny think she's not _really_ guessing at all. "Isaac?"

Who is, by the way, not at the table. Which should really surprise Danny a lot more than it does, but after yesterday afternoon and then this morning, he already kind of figured.

Doesn't mean it feels good.

He sighs. "I think he's avoiding me." There's no point hiding it, he guesses. Lydia obviously knows what his problem is, and of all her many graces, discretion just isn't one. If she knows, it's pretty much guaranteed the others do.

Somehow, that makes him feel even worse. He knows it's stupid, but just once, he thinks it'd be nice to be the one with a secret.

It doesn't help that, at that precise moment, Scott's water decides to go down the wrong pipe, and he sputters around something that Danny's already-wounded ego's all too eager to chalk up to a badly-concealed laugh.

He takes a second to remind himself that killing his friend – or at least maiming him with a spork – while therapeutic and probably kind of impressive, would also be a bad idea.

He settles for mutilating his cup of pears instead.

"Why would he be avoiding you?" Allison asks. And even if he already knows, he silently thanks her for being less obvious about it. "Did something happen?"

"Something happened alright," Stiles says. "Chemistry happened." And then he flashes Danny the most overdone wink he thinks he's ever seen. And he's been hit on by a drag queen, so that's saying something.

And no, he doesn't miss the double entendre.

"Hah hah," he mutters dryly, and since his pears are pretty much minced, he shifts his sporky vengeance over to the soggy broccoli beside it.

He looks up, though, when Stiles reaches across the table and claps him on the shoulder.

"Cheer up, Danny Boy," he tells him.

"Yeah," Scott chimes in. That's a little surprising, too, because Scott tends to steer well clear of other peoples' relationship troubles. He's smiling at Danny, though, and it seems genuine enough. "Maybe it's not as bad as you think."

And for some reason, Danny gets the weirdest impression that Scott might know a little more than he's letting on. Wouldn't be the first time.

He brushes it off as wishful thinking, though. Since chemistry, Isaac's been showing up to classes late and disappearing as soon as the bell rings, before Danny can even tell him hi. And when he saw him this morning in the hall, Isaac just docked his head and disappeared into the crowd. Color him paranoid, but that kind of thing's a little hard to misinterpret. His skipping lunch doesn't help.

So yeah, he's thinking it probably _is_ as bad as he thinks, but he thanks Scot anyway, because at least he tried. Danny appreciates the effort.

He doesn't really join in on the table conversation after that. His heart's just not in it, and his head's not even close. He's actually kind of grateful when the lunch bell rings until he remembers what class he has next and who it's with.

Let the awkwardness begin.

Which…it does. It really, really does.

As expected, Isaac shows up a couple minutes late to class, and wow, he must be really committed to this whole 'avoiding conversations with Danny' thing, because one does not simply show up late to Harris' class. If he didn't know better, he might almost believe Harris' glare is the reason Isaac's staring at the ground, and not because he's trying to avoid anything that might resemble eye contact with him.

Too bad he knows better.

It only gets worse, too. It would be bad enough if Isaac was _just_ ignoring him, but he's not. They're taking notes today, but every so often, Danny'll catch Isaac looking at him out of the corner of his eye. When he starts to actually turn his head, though, Isaac immediately goes back to staring at his paper, until Danny just gives up altogether and tries to focus on the lesson.

Keyword here being _tries_.

French is just as bad, and Econ's even worse because Isaac sits behind him, so he can feel his eyes on him, but he can't do anything about it.

He makes up his mind about halfway through, when he realizes he has absolutely no idea what Coach Finstock's talking about or how half of those numbers got on the board, that this has got to stop before he _actually_ goes crazy.

He decides to catch him after lacrosse practice. It doesn't have to be anything major; he just wants to talk to him, find out what's going on. They didn't even…nothing even _happened_ yesterday. Danny didn't even get around to telling him that he liked him _that way_, so he doesn't get why Isaac would be freaking out. So maybe he wasn't exactly subtle about it, but they've been kind of semi-flirting – at least Danny has; Isaac's kind of oblivious – for the last couple weeks, so he doesn't really see how it's any different.

Something is, though. Something's different, and Danny doesn't like it, and if making it right means going back to being Isaac's friend and nothing more, then okay, fine, he'll deal with it. That's better than this…whatever the heck's going on.

That's what he tells himself, anyway, and he can kind of almost believe it, too. Enough, at least, that he feels a little better. He still spends the first few minutes before practice looking for the familiar number 14 jersey that he's probably gotten a lot better at spotting than he should be. And he still feels his heart flutter a little in his chest when the owner of said jersey comes tearing in out of nowhere when Taylor gets a little close to the goal Danny's guarding and checks him hard enough to make him fall.

One of these days, Finstock's going to sit Isaac down and give him a strong talking to.

It'll probably be the day someone actually manages to get past him.

As soon as the whistle blows for the end of practice, Danny jogs off ahead of most of the crowd to get to the locker rooms. Isaac disappeared yesterday before he even got into the locker rooms, so he knows he has to be quick if he wants to catch him.

For all the good it does him. As he and the first couple people make it in, he catches sight of a familiar head of curly hair disappearing around the wall of lockers just past Danny's. And like the freakish creeper-stalker Danny's apparently turning in to, he starts after him, slowing down only long enough to prop his stick in his locker before he—

Stops.

Turns.

He thinks he heard something fall out of his locker, but he's not sure what, and so on instinct, he looks. And then he sees it.

A little packet of tinfoil.

A weird sort of feeling rises in Danny's chest as he bends down to pick up the little package off the floor. It's not too big – just about the size of his palm – and there's no note on it or anything. He's almost positive it fell out of his locker, though…he's pretty sure it's for him.

Curiosity wins out, and Danny leans back against the wall of the locker. Carefully, in case he was wrong and it isn't for him, he pulls open the wrapper.

His heart leaps into his throat.

"Whachu got?" Stiles asks, somehow suddenly looking over his shoulder.

It takes Danny a second to find his voice, as he finishes unwrapping the tinfoil. "I think—" he clears his throat, "—I think they're…scones."

"Aw, sweet! I'm starving."

This time, Danny doesn't even feel a little bit guilty about smacking his hand.

"They're just scones," Stiles mutters plaintively, but then Scott clears his throat behind him. He turns and looks at him, and Danny can't quite see the look Scott gives him, but he can imagine. Stiles turns back, scratching his head awkwardly. "Or, you know, maybe they're not. Maybe they're…important…somehow…."

Danny glances over his shoulder, and sees Scott doing the same thing.

Stiles purses his lips. "I'm gonna shut up, now."

"That's probably a good idea," Scott says, and then he looks up at Danny. "So?"

It takes Danny's brain a second to catch up, but then it does, and it's kind of like a light bulb and a mild cardiac event all rolled up in one. "Isaac?"

Scott just smiles. Or maybe he says something; Danny really doesn't hang around to find out. Before he's really sure what he's doing, he's tearing out of the locker room, tinfoil bundle of scones still clutched in his hand. Isaac can't have gone that far.

Sure enough, as he makes it out into the hall, he sees him, and holy _crap_ he changes fast. Like, freakish fast. Seriously, how quick can the guy get undress—

_O_-kay, not going there.

Except, when Isaac turns around, and he's got this crooked, kind of shy smile on his face like knows Danny knows. And he just stands there, hands in his pockets, shoulders kind of slumped, and _God_, it shouldn't be possible to look like that. It shouldn't be possible for Danny's heart to beat like this.

He thinks he gets it now, why Isaac's been avoiding him. He wonders how long Isaac's been holding onto those scones, how much courage it took him just to drop him in the locker. Maybe it's just a thank you, maybe he's just returning the favor for the andagi, but Danny doesn't even care. He's just so glad he didn't scare him off.

When he starts forward down the hall, he does it with every intention of telling him thank you, and maybe even asking Isaac if he wants to split the scone with him. Except he realizes, once he reaches him, that that's not gonna work out so well.

Turns out, it's really hard to tell Isaac anything when he's kissing him.

It takes probably a lot longer than it should for Danny's brain to catch up with what's going on – in his defense, he's only been dreaming about this moment for months now – and in a great feat of willpower, he steps back.

"Sorry," he says quickly. "I didn't…" He wracks his brain for something to explain pretty much jumping the guy, and all he ends up coming up with is, "The scones." Because that makes…absolutely no sense at all. "They look…they look great," which they do, by the way; kind of like little biscuits, all golden brown, except the smell like sugar and vanilla. "Thank y—"

Turns out, it's also hard to tell him anything when Isaac's kissing _him_.

Wait.

_Isaac_…is kissing _him_.

Just when that starts to sink in, though, through the clusterfuck of _oh my holy God_ that is his headspace, it's over. Isaac's leaning back, except it's kind of hard to mind too much, because that _smile_. And for the record, no one – he repeats, _no one_ – should be allowed to smell this good after two hours of work-outs in summer in Cali-freaking-fornia. He's not human, and Danny thinks he may very well be in love.

It seems really silly, all of the sudden, that he was freaking out like that. It seems like Scott was right: it's not as bad as he—

Danny has a thought. "Did Scott know about this?" He knows it's probably not that important in the grand scheme of _Isaac Lahey just kissed him back_, but, well, he's curious.

He doesn't regret asking, either. Not when Isaac lets out a soft chuckle and his cheeks get a little flushed. "I used his kitchen," he explains, scratching his head a little sheepishly.

Ah. He's been curious for a while now about where Isaac's living, but he wonders if this means that, wherever it is, it doesn't have a kitchen.

"I don't know if they're any good," Isaac tells him. "Me and Scott tried them, but we'll eat anything." Which is true, actually. Isaac, as Danny has discovered, seems to have that same black hole between his mouth and his stomach. The guy could eat for days and not gain a pound.

Danny's about to tell him they're great, except he realizes he hasn't actually tried one yet. He was in too much of a hurry to get out here.

That can easily be changed.

Taking a page from Isaac's book, he very deliberately breaks off a piece of one of the scones, and keeping his eyes on Isaac's, he takes a bite.

…On second thought, maybe Kalea was right. He should marry him. Right now. Because seriously, if he wasn't already perfect enough, the guy knows how to cook. _Scones_.

"Have I mentioned how much I like scones?" Somehow, he manages to bite it off before he asks if he's mentioned how much he likes _Isaac_. That would be a new level of cheesy even for him.

Seriously, though, scones are his second favorite pastry in the world. And he's thinking he might have to bump them up on the list after this.

Isaac's relief may very well be the cutest thing he's ever seen. He lets out a breath Danny wasn't even aware he'd been holding, and his whole body kind of sags for a second, and when he straightens back up, he's wearing that broad, perfect, eye-crinkling grin of his that probably shouldn't even be legal in the United States.

"I wasn't sure I remembered the recipe right," he says. "My mom used to make them, but she never—"

"Wrote the recipe down," Danny finishes for him knowingly. "Well, you definitely nailed it." Which is a word he should never allow his brain to associate with Isaac if he ever wants to dream of anything else, ever.

Luckily, before Danny's imagination can take that and run with it, he hears an oddly familiar sound.

He raises an eyebrow. "Was that your stomach?"

Isaac nods, and may Danny just say, that's a lovely shade of red he turns.

Danny can't help it; he chuckles, and then he gets an idea. He holds up the scone, because hey, it's not like they have to worry about sharing germs, and he's kind of freakishly pleased with himself when Isaac takes a bite.

He follows it with a kiss, and he's even more pleased when Isaac's hands find his hips and pull him closer, and God, Danny never wants this to end. After the frankly craptastic way this day started…this is worth it.

Isaac's amazing. His scent, the warmth that seems to radiate off him like a furnace…the way he tastes. Like spearmint, Danny thinks, and rain, and…

And just a little something sweet.


End file.
